Tag Archives: rape culture

The Rape of Sookie Stackhouse (Redux)

5 Sep

This post was originally published at Orange the Brave.

Trigger warning for descriptions of fictional rape.  Spoiler warning… for spoilers.

A portrait of Anna Paquin; text reads "What will become of me?"

via perezhilton.com

A few days ago, Eld and I had a Tumblr exchange about bad books we feel compelled to finish, even though they’re bad, which was precipitated by my stating that I found the most recent installment in the Sookie Stackhouse series of novels by Charlaine Harris to be unforgivably awful.  The book, Dead Reckoning, had no discernible plot, completely dropped the ball on what should have been a HUGE DEAL, and it just felt like it was unenthusiastic about slogging through yet another formula Southern Vampire book (it would be unfair to call it a mystery – there was little to no sleuthing).  This is how the books work: Sookie cleans her house, Sookie finds out there are even more supernatural creatures that we didn’t know about (seriously, as the books progress, it gets kind of ridiculous – vampires, shapeshifters, werewolves, werepanthers, fairies, demons, maenads, men who are not rapists – just kidding!  all men are rapists in the Sookie Stackhouse novels!), Sookie has violent sex after which she is obligated to ice her pussy, horribly gruesome violence porn in which at least ten minor characters are slaughtered and/or dismembered, the end.

And I can say “the end” because I finished reading it.  I finished reading it, even though it was horrible.  I finished reading all of them, even though they were horrible (though not so horrible as the latest one).  Part of the reason is that I have this sick compulsion to finish reading terrible books, and I am in fact more likely to finish a terrible book than I am to finish one that I’m legitimately enjoying (I mean, I finish the vast majority of books I read, but I can think of a few occasions where I put a good book down and just never picked it up again, and zero occasions in which I’ve put a bad book down).  And another reason that I’m hooked on these books is that I just cannot believe some of the horseshit that goes down in them.

A while ago, I had this other blog that kind of stalled out and was eventually deleted, but one of my projects there was to recap and analyze each of the Sookie Stackhouse books.  So I’m going to try to condense all of that down into one blog post about how rape-y these books are.  Because they’re super rape-y.

Unlike some feminist critics out there, I don’t have a problem with portrayals of rape.  I don’t necessarily believe that if an author writes about rape, ze is necessarily condoning it.  Vladimir Nabokov wrote about a pedophile – in the first person, no less! – and I really, really don’t think anyone would dare argue that Lolita gives child molestation the thumbs-up.  But the Sookie Stackhouse novels are not like that – not at all.  While I wouldn’t argue that they condone rape, they certainly engage in some pretty heinous rape apologism – and that’s what we’re going to delve into.

The first thing you need to know about the Sookie Stackhouse books is that the vampires are scary, and they have fangs (unlike some other vampire fiction we know).  They are ruthless, untrustworthy, passionate, and they fuck.  In fact, it’s observed many times throughout the course of the novels that blood and sex are deeply intertwined, and that for vampires, one rarely comes without the other.

The second thing you need to know… is a brief plot synopsis.  In the world of the Southern Vampire Mysteries, vampires have “come out of the coffin” after the invention of synthetic blood – which obviously means that they don’t need to prey on humans to sustain “life” (they don’t need to, which doesn’t mean that they don’t).  The first novel,Dead Until Dark, is set in the fictional Bon Temps, Louisiana, two years after vampires have made their existence known to the world.  This is where we meet Sookie Stackhouse, a waitress and telepath, who gets all gooey in the groin over the first vampire she meets.  His name is Bill Compton, and he just happens to live in the house across the cemetery.  AND THIS IS WHERE ALL OF THE TROUBLE BEGINS.

Right out of the gate it’s established that in these books, rape and sexual assault are the weapons of choice.  Whether she’s forced to watch sex acts against her will (on page 57, we’re introduced to a group of vampires considerably more frightening than Bill, and the way that threat is established is through a lot of heavy petting and one of them receiving fellatio while Sookie, too frightened to run away, watches), or the local detective is trying to bait her telepathy by imagining her fucking her brother (Dead Until Dark, 104), it seems that the best way to scare Sookie is to put her into extremely uncomfortable sexual situations.

And because it wouldn’t be good, trashy genre fiction without it, “forced seduction” and the threat thereof plays a large role in the steamy scenes as well.  Take, for example, this scene which occurs on page 101 in Dead Until Dark:

Oh boy, could he kiss.  We might have problems communicating on some levels, but this wasn’t one of them.  We had a great time for maybe five minutes.  I felt all the right things moving through my body in waves.  Despite the awkwardness of being in the front seat of a car, I managed to be comfortable, mostly because he was so strong and considerate.  I nipped his skin with my teeth.  He made a sound like a growl.

“Sookie!”  His voice was ragged.

I moved away from him, maybe half an inch.

“If you do that anymore, I’ll have you whether you want to be had or not,” he said, and I could tell he meant it.

“You don’t want to,” I said finally, trying not to make it a question.

Okay, here is where we have to draw some lines between real life, and the conventions of fiction.  In real life, if someone told me that they’d “have” me, whether I wanted it or not, I really, really doubt I’d find it sexy (unless it was something my partner and I had previously negotiated, of course) – in fact, I’d probably be scared shitless.  In this book, and in other literature – especially romances – we don’t read this situation as a rape threat because it’s been previously established that Sookie is game, and we know she is game because she is narrating, and we know what she is thinking.  We also know that Bill and Sookie would have been humping a long time ago were it not for some strategically placed barriers, like social taboos and miscommunications (because it’s not romantic if two people meet, decide they want to fuck, and then fuck – no, no, there has to be anobstacle).  There’s been a considerable amount of research and speculation as to why we’re okay with rape in genre fiction (here is one that I like in particular, and here’s another).

But see, that isn’t the big problem.  The big problem occurs in book three, when I guess someone decided that all of those rape threats were no good unless they were actually carried out.  At the end of book three, which is called Club Dead (I know), Sookie ends up rescuing a half-starved Bill from where he’s being held captive by the vampire king of Mississippi (I KNOW), and then some bitch locks her in a trunk with him, where he rapes her.

I mean, he really rapes her.  I KNOW!!!

Thankfully, Sookie terminates the relationship after that point (though they were honestly on the rocks before that), but remains reluctant to really place any blame on Bill for what happened.  It’s argued first that Bill, starving as he was, couldn’t help it or wasn’t aware that he was even doing it.  It’s then argued that the blame lies with the woman who pushed Sookie into the trunk, and this isn’t just Sookie trying to rationalize what happened – other characters also say it’s the woman’s fault (her name is Debbie Pelt, FWIW).  It isn’t even until book five or six that Sookie even calls what happened in the trunk a “rape.”  Bill is never held accountable for his actions (except that he loses Sookie as his girlfriend), and Sookie even becomes friendly with him again after a little time has passed.

Where Harris really fails is that she puts forth a situation – Sookie’s rape – and then refuses to really deal with it.  I’d never argue that an author can’t allow hir main character to be sexually assaulted – but if you’re going to have that happen, you must treat it with the gravity it deserves.  For example, don’t have another one of your characters say this to the woman who was raped a few hours after it happened:

“Had it occurred to you,” he said, after we’d rolled out of the city’s center, “that you tend to walk away when things between you and Bill become rocky?  Not that I mind, necessarily, since I would be glad for you two to sever your association.  But if this is a pattern you follow in your romantic attachments, I want to know now.” (Club Dead, 215)

Hey Sookie – this dude just raped you, and I feel like I should probably shame you a little bit for not sticking around to work it out with him, and I also want to know if it’s your wont to run away from your rapist, in case you and I get into a relationship with one another and I rape you.  I mean, running away from your rapist – is that a pattern?

And this is typical of the way this rape is treated moving forward in the series – and it’s something I was never able to forgive Harris for.  It’s one of the reasons, I imagine, that True Blood changed this scene up so that Bill simply drank from Sookie – almost to the point of killing her – and did not rape her.  Because when you allow one of your characters to get raped, you have to deal with it – you can’t treat it like he farted in bed or forgot to bring milk home, or even like he cheated.

It’s a real shame.  While these books are certainly not masterpieces, they are fairly progressive in their cavalier attitude toward homosexuality, bisexuality, and gender expression.  It’s just too bad that all of that got ruined when Harris refused to acknowledge that she allowed one of her characters to get raped.  I guess I’ve never forgiven her for it.

And yet… I’ll be reading the next one when it comes out – you can be sure of it.  And I’ll hate it all the way through.



Harris, Charlaine.  Dead Until Dark.  New York: Penguin, 2001.

Harris, Charlaine.  Club Dead.  New York: Penguin, 2003.


Your Daily* Dose of WTF?: Rape Culture, Alive and Well

31 Aug

Trigger warning for description of a possible sexual assault.

This story appeared a couple of days ago on Jezebel.  A guy gives a comedy monologue in which he basically describes how he raped a woman.  And everyone is apparently supposed to laugh.

Irin Carmon reports:

As the story goes, an “old drunk girl” gave her number to a waiter, who had a girlfriend but suggested Eric go instead. He claims “peer pressure” from the fellow staff led him to call the woman, “without saying, hey I’m a different person, is this okay?” and to take a cab to her hotel. He says she opened up the door and said, “Oh no.” This is how he recounts the dialogue:

“You’re not the guy I wanted.”

“But I’m the guy who showed up.” This elicits cheers.

She said, “Well I’m not letting you in,” but “she leaves the door open so I’m like bingo…. I walk in there and I kind of close the door.” She told him to leave, again, and he says to himself, “All right, it’s now or never.” He says he kissed her, they started making out, and when the comedians start uncomfortably joking about the police and the Fifth Amendment, Eric says, “I’m pretty sure she felt safe,” that she was stronger than him and had him “pinned down.” He then says he went for the “fishhook,” which is how he says he tells it to his friends, and demonstrates penetrating her with his fingers.

This is a perfect example of a really awful rape joke.  The worst part is that this guy clearly doesn’t think he did anything wrong.

Um, gross.  The article includes a video of the performance.

Good Dog: Thoughts on Firefly

8 Aug

The sad news is that, while I am technically sticking to my posting schedule, I do not have a big, well-researched piece for you today.  This is because I was introduced to Firefly over the weekend.  And I mean I watched all fourteen episodes plus the movie in a matter of about… two days.  I regret nothing.

When I tell you I’m not much of a television person, I don’t mean it in the way that some people mean it, where it’s like, some sort of badge of honor in not owning a TV.  Growing up, I had to fight to watch television, because my mom was worried that it would rot my brain and/or distract me from my schoolwork (I’m not sure about the former, but the latter is definitely true).  I never had my own television, and when I went off to school, I didn’t have one to bring with me… and then I remained sans-television for roughly six years, simply because I could afford to have one.  I’m guessing in those six years, I forgot how to watch it.  Or I became addicted to the internet.  One of the two.  Or both.

On top of all of that, I do not have a head for television or movies.  I have a hard time remembering details, or character names.  I just don’t tend to absorb information well when I’m watching something.

So, it should come as no surprise to you that prior to Firefly, I had limited experience with Joss Whedon.  I had heard of Buffy (though I’m not sure if I knew enough about it to be able to connect Whedon’s name to it until recently), I’d seen Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog,  and I’d listened to that live episode of This American Life where he sang.  It was terrible, but also adorable.

No, the thing that really made me take interest in Joss Whedon was when he first appeared (and then became a recurring character) as a puppy in the web comic, Riot Nrrd.  Actually, the very first panel of the very first installment of Riot Nrrd reads, “Joss.  Fucking.  Whedon.”

Now, that might not sound like much of a commendation, but within context (you’ll just have to read it), it kind of is.  I mean, Joss Whedon may just be a puppy – ahem, creator of television series, excuse me – among puppies creators of television series, but the fact that a web comic about fat/disabled/lesbian/queer/biracial/POC/transgender lady and genderqueer dorks saw fit to even have a conversation about him?  And a conversation that, in context, reflects the notion that marginalized people would even bother putting enough faith in him to be disappointed?  That’s actually a pretty high commendation.

So I was stoked when a friend decided I needed to be educated about Firefly.  I was prepared to be pretty impressed.

Now, I don’t want to give a rundown of the entire series.  If we’re going to keep with the puppy analogy here, Firefly makes Joss Whedon look like a St. Bernard who not only shits in the toilet, but also reads Tolstoy and makes his own olive oil.  I mean, is the main protagonist a cis, het, white male?  Well, yeah – we’re still talking puppies here.  But there is so. much. good. shit. going on.  Like, there’s a sex worker who is not a victim, and an inter-racial marriage that, while it conforms to that idea that black women are more masculine than white men, is not a source of anxiety (i.e. the man is perfectly comfortable with the fact that his wife kicks more ass than he does – and in the episode where he’s not okay with it, it’s not because she kicks ass, but rather because she has stories about it).  Three out of the four main female characters are extremely capable and self-sufficient (and the one who isn’t is still never the “damsel in distress”).  And the most wonderful thing about all of this is that you barely even notice it.  It feels effortless, which, in my opinion, is a major triumph in writing diverse characters.

But I don’t really want to talk about that.  I want to talk about a specific episode.   And I want to talk specifically about one scene.  In “Objects in Space,” a sadistic bounty hunter boards Serenity, and he is scary. as. fuck.  And in this one scene, he very matter-of-factly threatens to rape one of the female crew members.

I’m sure there are plenty of “bad puppy” arguments one could make, because a person interested in critical theory and deconstruction can’t really ignore the fact that this is a black man threatening to rape a white woman.  If you’ve ever paid attention to anything EVER, there should be all kinds of sirens going off in your head regarding this dynamic.  And if you don’t have sirens going off, maybe you should reread To Kill a Mockingbird.

The above paragraph just made every browncoat on the internet hate me – just you watch.

Anyway, I want to ignore that dynamic for just a moment, and point to the gravity of that scene, and how fucking terrifying it really is.  As my friend and I discussed, rape is common on television.  It happens a lot.  It happens pretty much weekly on Law and Order: SVU, in fact.  I’m one of those people for whom SVU is addictive.  It’s not like I even watch it, really, or absorb what is happening.  All of these violent rapes?  They don’t mean anything to me.  I’m numb to it.

But in this episode, it’s the threat that is terrifying.  There is no actual violence, and it’s still more frightening and meaningful than the actual (okay, not actual, but you know what I mean) rapes that happen weekly on SVU.

I’m sure we can all point to the reasons why – the threat is leveled against a character that we have come to love over the course of the series.  That’s the real difference, isn’t it?  In SVU, the victims are people that the audience doesn’t know.  That doesn’t make it less horrific, but it’s easier to not feel it, to not register what has actually occurred.  It probably doesn’t help that most of the time on SVU, we learn about rapes after they have happened, or the actresses being raped aren’t very good, and the rapists aren’t either.  Additionally, the show is so freaking formulaic that we always know what’s coming, and what’s coming is rape.

But the fact that this scene is so freaking scary is a major point in Whedon’s favor.  I’ve mentioned before that I do not object to using rape to make a point.  The point that was being made in “Objects in Space” was that this bounty hunter was a scary, sadistic fuck.  It’s also a testament to some seriously good writing that a verbal threat of rape can carry so much weight on a television show that exists in a culture where rape is often a punchline, or doesn’t mean anything at all.

So I was not disappointed by Firefly.  My expectations were not dashed.  Joss Whedon didn’t really descend into puppydom in my estimation, though from what I’ve heard, I ought to skip Dollhouse.  That’s really no problem for me.  After all, I’m not much of a television person.

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Rape Culture Rhetoric in Reporting Strauss Kahn

31 Jul

Latoya Peterson of Racialicious wrote a really excellent piece on the rhetoric being employed in the reporting of the rape accusations leveled at Dominique Strauss Kahn by Nafissatou Diallo.

The media, in true form, has been describing Diallo’s physical appearance – her hair is hennaed, her face pock-marked, but she has a “womanly, statuesque figure.”  Says Latoya:

Only in cases involving rape or assault is how the victim appears a subject for commentary. This is part of rape culture, the idea that we have to evaluate the attractiveness of a person alleging assault along with the other facts in the case.

She goes on to examine the subtle ways the media has tried to cast doubt on Diallo’s credibility, including the fact that she may have embellished a few details of her life in Guinea when appealing to the United States for asylum.

Read the rest of this article here.

Let’s Talk About Rape Jokes

28 Jul

This blog is fairly young yet, but you’ll learn quickly that my ass is still quite sore over what I generally refer to as “The Dickwolves Debacle.”  If you missed it, you’re lucky, but I’ll summarize it thusly: everyone acted like a butthole.  Everyone acted like a dirty, smelly butthole.  Basically, the guys over at “Penny Arcade” drew this comic, which was meant to be a comment on how morally uncomfortable it is in an MMORPG like World of Warcraft to be sent on a mission to rescue five slaves… except, because you’re in the same universe as like, a gajillion other players who might be on the same quest you’re on, those slaves will keep respawning so that other players have something to rescue, meaning that you’re inevitably going to be leaving slaves behind.  And in the course of making this point, the “sixth slave” says, “Every night we are raped to sleep by the dickwolves.”

And then online feminism exploded.  It happened first at Shakesville, which is like, the fuse or something – the fuse on the bomb which is online feminism.  Do you see how consistent I am being about my metaphors?  Also, do you know how awesome explosions are?  This is why this is a fantastic analogy.

Anyway, “Penny Arcade” broke the feminist internet, because it’s not okay to use rape as a punchline!  And you know, I agree with that (for the most part).  Problem is that rape was not the punchline in that “Penny Arcade” comic.  That comic was about all of the things I just said it was a few paragraphs ago.  And I guess Gabe and Tycho felt the same way I do, because they responded to the feminist internet… and acted like big butt-munchers about it.  Not cool.

So, either there is a sector of the feminist internet that doesn’t understand the anatomy of a joke, or there is a sector of the feminist internet that says that is it never okay to talk about rape unless it’s in the literal, scary sense.  I’m guessing it’s the latter, because when I used to read Shakesville on a regular basis, I frequently found myself snorting into my coffee.

You want my personal opinion on the dickwolves?  I liked the comic.  I thought it made its point nicely, and I didn’t find it triggering or offensive.  That’s not to say that my reaction is the right one, and it’s not to say that rape jokes don’t exist in a larger culture.  Denis Farr, writing for The Border House, said this of the comic:

Personally, among the reasons I find rape jokes much more problematic than murder jokes (and I don’t necessarily let off the hook the latter), is that this is the response to rape in the real world. Murder, unless sanctioned by a government, is quite often condemned. Rape is often more murky, even if we theoretically believe it wrong.

Yes, rape jokes exist in a larger culture that systematically trivializes rape, and perhaps reading “The Sixth Slave” might have been triggering for some people… but it wasn’t really a rape joke.

This is a rape joke.

This is the final panel in today’s installment of “Truth Serum,” a comic I read weekly on The Rumpus.  So why is this a rape joke, when it doesn’t even reference literal rape?  Let’s break it down, shall we?

This two-part strip has Malory Watkins approaching Flying Man, and asking him to autograph her breasts.  Flying Man doesn’t want to do it there, in public, because there are kids around, and he might get into trouble.  And in this final panel, Malory Watkins says to him, “Do it or I’ll blow my rape whistle and then you’ll really get into trouble.”

The difference between this strip and “The Sixth Slave” is that here, rape actually is the punchline.  Or rather, not even rape – the idea that a woman would use the threat of a rape accusation to get a man to do what she wants him to do.  I mean, that’s nasty.  That relies on all kinds of stereotypes about how women are manipulative, and it pushes the (false) cultural meme that tells us that men accused of rape are actually the victims.

Okay, I recognize that all of this is kind of a matter of opinion, and it all depends on what you’re willing to put up with.  You know, I’m going to continue reading “Truth Serum,” because I think it’s funny most of the time.  I would, however, like to point out that this particular strip relies heavily on harmful cultural memes that directly trivialize rape.

So!  There’s my opinion.  You should leave yours in the comments!

[Image 1 Source] [Image 2 Source]

The Obligatory Post About Rape Culture

12 Jul

I’ll guess we’ll mark this one down on the long list of lady things that dudes hate, right after menstrual blood and paper doilies.  Rape culture is one of the things I hear a lot of pushback against as I’m tottering through my feminist life – and the resistance I hear isn’t necessarily coming from anti-feminists.  In fact, it never is, because I’m lucky enough to have a core group of supportive friends who are excellent allies.

But the rape culture thing – well, it has a hard time gelling, and I think part of that is related to the fact that there are some misconceptions about what rape culture actually is.  I rather like Wikipedia’s definition, which states that rape culture:

… is a term which originated in women’s studies and feminist theory, describing a culture in which rape and sexual violence against women are common and in which prevalent attitudes, norms, practices, and media condone, normalize, excuse, or tolerate sexual violence against women.

Taken alone, I doubt anyone would take much issue with this definition, especially given the fact that rape has kind of been all over the news in the past few months, what with legislators pushing abortion bills with no exceptions for rape, the Julian Assange media frenzy, and now the Strauss-Kahn debacle, and in past months there have been a couple of gruesome assault cases in Texas that especially highlight the problem our culture has with victim-blaming.

One of these instances sparked an uproar in March, when the New York Times reported on the gang rape of an 11-year-old girl by 18 men and boys in Cleveland, Texas.  From the article:

The case has rocked this East Texas community to its core and left many residents in the working-class neighborhood where the attack took place with unanswered questions. Among them is, if the allegations are proved, how could their young men have been drawn into such an act?

“It’s just destroyed our community,” said Sheila Harrison, 48, a hospital worker who says she knows several of the defendants. “These boys have to live with this the rest of their lives.”

Notice the framing of the issue here.  If it’s not blaming the victim, it is certainly suggesting that those who perpetrated the act were not responsible for what they did.  The article asks how they were “drawn into” raping that child, implying that the rapists were, in fact, the ones being victimized.  Furthermore, Sheila Harrison as quoted expresses her concern for the welfare of the 18 men – EIGHTEEN! – and completely ignores the fact that a child was abducted and brutally raped over and over again.

Later in the article:

Residents in the neighborhood where the abandoned trailer stands — known as the Quarters — said the victim had been visiting various friends there for months. They said she dressed older than her age, wearing makeup and fashions more appropriate to a woman in her 20s. She would hang out with teenage boys at a playground, some said.

“Where was her mother? What was her mother thinking?” said Ms. Harrison, one of a handful of neighbors who would speak on the record. “How can you have an 11-year-old child missing down in the Quarters?”

Here is a prime example of victim-blaming behavior.  The mere mention that this child was hanging out in a dangerous place, was dressing older than her age, and was fraternizing with teenage boys suggests that by engaging in these behaviors, this girl was at least somewhat responsible for what happened to her – and as a reminder, this was an 11-year-old child who was gang raped by 18 men.  Harrison, the same woman quoted above, also suggests that the girl’s mother might be to blame.

This is an argument used all the time – and I’m really not sure if people really and truly understand how fucked up it is.  So many of us might look at a situation like that and think, this is something that could have been prevented.  If only she’d been more careful; if only her mother had been paying more attention.  I’ve seen the analogy made that if a guy doesn’t want his wallet stolen, he shouldn’t walk through a shitty neighborhood fanning himself with his cash.  This does not change the fact that mugging someone is illegal – it’s just as illegal if someone steals your cash while you’re waving it around as it would be if you were clutching it for dear life.  Rape is rape, regardless of where the victim is hanging out, what zie is wearing, and with whom zie associates.

Let’s reiterate what we just read, shall we?  This was an article from the New York Times reporting on the gang rape of an 11-year-old child.  It is suggested by the author of the piece – not by the woman quoted – that the perpetrators were “drawn into” raping this girl, and that the victim was behaving in a way that essentially tells us that she was asking for it – or at least that we shouldn’t be surprised or horrified that something like this happened.  This was not a simple case of a reporter telling it like it is – if this were truly an unbiased article, these sentiments would have come with an attribution.  So either this was a case of seriously sloppy reporting, or a journalist – who is supposed to be unbiased – inserted his own insidious opinion that, somehow, this child brought what happened to her upon herself.

And the sad thing about that is that I doubt he even realized what he was doing.

In another case (highlighted today on Sociological Images), a cheerleader raped by football player in Silsbee, Texas had her entire town turning against her, even though the evidence couldn’t have been more clear that she was raped.  And yet, she was ostracized, and kicked off her cheerleading squad when she refused to cheer for her rapist.  The article on Sociological Images highlights another example of biased media coverage of rape cases:

The local paper, The Silsbee Bee, favorably covered the accused, even publishing an article titled, “Sexual Assault Prosecutions Cost County Nearly $20,000.” It was hard to miss the implication that this was money ill spent.

To anyone who doubts the rape culture, this is what it is.  It’s not some militant feminist theory that seeks to turn men into second-class citizens.  It’s the real, documented culture in which we don’t even think twice about making excuses for rapists, or blaming a victim for what happened to hir, or coming up with any excuse whatsoever to not hold a rapist accountable for hir crime.

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